


Hell in His Head

by Ewok_Poet



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Cybernetics, Gen, Psycho, Trippy, cyber psychosis, tooka, what is not real, what is real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 08:31:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10330484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ewok_Poet/pseuds/Ewok_Poet
Summary: The line between reality and fantasy is thin, but it's thinner when you're wearing cybernetic implants the way some would wear ear muffs...





	

So much information. Everything. He has learned everything about the Jedi and other Force users, but what has been happening to him since he got his implants was far worse. He could not shut off, he could not pick what he was to feel and what he was not to feel. Everything, everywhere travels through him and he’s a giant information feed. Never stopping to catch a breath. Absolutely helpless in terms of filtering out what he never wanted to see. There are times when he cannot tell his real voice from the synthetic one common to protocol droids, that usually accompanies the

 

How to make it better? How to make it stop? This was not what he was hoping for. It’s not like he hoped for much, but he never wanted to become a living experiment, a frightening mashup of artificial intelligence and real, green flesh and scales. Through his large, buglike eyes, the picture was slowly becoming pixelated. What was real? And what was not?

 

He has no answer to this question. Just like many other experiments, he had been stripped of his true self. He cannot speak without fearing the synthetic voice coming out of his mouth. He cannot blink without fearing that he will project something sinister to the privacy of his own personal space.

 

“Is Tseebo a supercomputer?” He asks himself.

 

Then, three pairs of eyes, one greener and brighter than the other two, almost as green as him, shines from the other corner of the hideout. Two stray younglings on the run play with a wounded tooka that they had managed to bring back from the brink of death. The small animal is purring, letting out an occasional “me-how”, but the static noise and the laser pews are making it so distant.

 

There are times where he wishes for nothing but radio silence. He had heard that travelling through the funnels and threads of hyperspace, bending the space time was the most peaceful experience in the Universe, but he has not left Lothal before and he can’t imagine that he ever would get a chance to.

 

And then, he suddenly knows what to do. Using the images from all possible holocams, everywhere, he manages to focus on what he really wants and then, he projects a fluffy tooka on his lap. He imagines petting it. He can hear the “me-haw” and “purr”, it’s almost like owning a real pet.

 

“Tseebo is fine now.” He utters, to nobody in particular. “Tseebo loves his tooka, but fears that it will attack yours if they’re of the same sex. Please, forgive him!”

 

The two confused younglings turn around, but they do not see what he sees. For it’s just a projection of some disc-shaped freighter. And what they have been looking at was some ship owned by the daughter of a Twi’lek revolutionary from Ryloth. Her name’s Hera Something. Hera… Syndilla?

 

And it’s almost like the real world outside of their hideout, but not quite. Not quite.


End file.
